Warlock and Son Read Online Free PDF Page B

reason, he doubted. Probably a subconscious command the witch had left-but there it was.
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    Still, it was worth a try. Who could he call? His mother and father, of course, but he winced at the indignity of calling on his mother at his age. And it would be just as bad calling his teenaged brothers, and Cordelia would be impossible; he could do without their laughter, thank you. Which left Dad. That, he definitely did not want to do-not after having quarreled with him, and been told to get lost. But there was no alternative-Dad was better than his mother or siblings. Of course, there was Fess. But where Fess went, Dad would go--after all, he was riding the robot-horse. Rod rode uphill through the gathering gloom. He could no longer see the squat tower, but he knew it was there. Weariness tugged at every fiber, but he fought it off and kept riding. "He could be anywhere around here-if he's here at all. Any sign of him, Fess?"
    "There is a trail off to our right, Rod."
    "You mean the footpath? The one that virtually screams, `Look here to discover intruders'? That footpath?"
    "The very same, Rod. The one you decided to avoid."
    "I noticed you didn't disagree. Why? You see some sign of Magnus there?"
    "Unfortunately not-but we might, if we went closer."
    "No need-we're coming out on top of the ridge, now." Rod tensed. "Odds are the trail leads there, too-to the tower." He loosened his sword in its sheath.
    Fess stopped, looking downward. "What's the holdup?" Rod frowned. "There is a skeleton, Rod." Rod froze, then looked down.
    Sure enough, it was a skeleton, wrapped around the base of the tree as though it had died out of devotion to the forest. Rod felt his scalp prickling. "Odd posture, wouldn't you say?"
    "I would, Rod. It is indicative of ritual slaying."
    "Or someone with a bizarre sense of humor." Rod was far less charitable than his robot. "A someone with a very twisted mind-and a cavity where his heart should be."
    "There are others," Fess reported, surveying the hillside with infrared eyes. "A dozen at least, that I can see from this location."
    "The townsfolk did say something about the witch taking young men, didn't they?" Rod scowled. "And something about very few of them ever coming back."
    "Surely you are not saying that this is what she did to them when she became bored with them!"
    "I've heard of worse-I suppose. Come on, Rust Rider. Let's see what we can find around the other trees."
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    "Rod, I resent. . . "
    "Okay, okay! You're a Stainless Steel Steed. Up and out of the trees now, okay?" Moving slowly, Fess stepped out of the scrub and into the shadow of the last tree, a huge old oak with the scars of broken limbs, rough bark, and ...
    Something pale at the base.
    Rod stared down, transfixed, not even able to speak.
    A snake lay coiled around the roots-a pale snake with his son's head. Magnus opened his mouth-and hissed.
    Fury struck, anger at the witch who had mangled his son. The world about him dimmed as Rod concentrated on the spell, the compulsion imposed on his son, which had twisted his perceptions into seeing himself as a snake, and made him project his own delusion into other people's minds-with all the titanic strength of the hybrid esper he was.
    Rod tore at that compulsion, pushing it away with all the strength of his mind; for a moment, he saw Magnus as he really was, naked and curled around the base of the oak. But only for a moment; then the young man's mind forced the delusion back into Rod's, and he realized just how much more powerful his son's mind was than his own. Rod withdrew shaken and reeling. Awe and dread pooled within him, but he let them pass, holding on to Fess's mane and waiting for the dizziness to subside, for pride to rise in its stead-and found that the anger was still there, glowing hot, but controlled now,